


Morning at the Winchesters

by meowmishameow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aww, Best Friends, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Fluff, Fluff, HS AU, M/M, Morning, Protective Dean, Twister - Freeform, clingy!Dean, dean and cas - Freeform, dean and castiel - Freeform, destiel best friends, destiel high school, destiel hs, destiel hs au, destiel sleepover, destiel twister, protective!Dean, sleepover, so cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:48:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5475068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowmishameow/pseuds/meowmishameow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel wakes up at his best friend's house after a night of bad sleep. Dean hogged all the pillows and now his neck and shoulders feel sore.<br/>He wakes up to crepes made my Mary Winchester, a judgmental Sam, a masseuse Dean, and a sexy game of Twister. But really, it's just another Saturday morning for the two best friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning at the Winchesters

“Cas? Hey, wake up,” the honey smooth voice covered Castiel in a warm glaze, covering his thoughts and making his tongue stick to his mouth. He wasn’t awake enough to talk, but he was awake enough to recognize the voice that cooed down to him.  
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” the soft voice chuckled, the bed dipping down a bit to accommodate for the extra weight it now carried. Dean ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair, grinning. The boy was so cute when he was tired. He was loopy and silly and just...adorable.  
Castiel whined, pushing his hand up into Dean’s face. He grinned, lips spreading wide as he pinched the freckled nose of the boy sitting next to him. Dean just rolled his eyes and grinned, kissing Castiel’s forehead.  
“Get up, Cas,” the older one said, his tone gentle, but prodding. Castiel sighed and did as he was told, standing up and clearing his throat. He would be much more lucid after a cup of coffee.   
Spending the night at the Winchester’s house always had its perks. For example, Mary Winchester always made something delicious and sugary for breakfast, much to the pleasure of her sons. And Castiel, of course, who was very much like a son to her.  
Castiel rubbed his eyes, rubbing his shoulder. He must have slept on it wrong, he was all sore. His neck and shoulder stung, a severe case of whiplash. Dean was probably hogging the bed again, making Cas sleep without a pillow.  
He pulled up his pajama pants, which were sliding down his slim hips. They were Dean’s, so they were a bit baggy on him, even when he had the elastic string tied as tight as possible. The sleeveless shirt he was wearing was also Dean’s, an old black shirt with the band title The Smiths across the front. Though it was sleeveless, it hung off one of Castiel’s shoulders, exposing one of his collarbones quite visibly.  
He watched Dean jog down the stairs before smiling to himself, chuckling. The boys had been best friends since seventh grade, but lately Dean was acting even more clingy than usual. Cas, who was Brace Face Novak in middle school, always had a Winchester clinging to him. It was usually the eldest brother. Even after he’d been free of his braces and the kids had no reason to tease him any longer, Dean was still clingy and protective. He would hold Castiel’s hand, walk him to the bus stop, or play with his hair during class. Sometimes, after the Novak boy got out of tennis practice, Dean would get him ice packs for his aching joints.   
This morning, stinging and groggy from oversleeping, Castiel slumped out of bed and walked downstairs. He smiled at Mary and said, “hey, Mary. What’s for breakfast today?”  
The blonde lady hummed and grinned, calling him over. “Cas,” she said, “hey, sleepyhead. You and Dean must have stayed up late last night, hm? I’m making crepes with strawberries.”  
Castiel grinned, nearly purring. He loved crepes. He loved it when Mary Winchester made delicious things for the boys, and let them eat as much of it as they wanted. They were teenage boys. They were always hungry.  
“Yeah,” Dean said, nibbling at a strawberry, “we stayed up watching the Twilight Zone and some old silent black and white films.” He eyed Castiel, squinting as the boy winced and rolled his neck, sitting up straighter and arching his back.  
“Hey,” Sam nudged the blue eyed boy’s ribs, asking, “you alright, man?”  
“Yeah,” he responded, “I just slept weird. Dean was hogging the bed and stole my pillows.” Mary made no comment, but her lips twinged up into a little smile. Dean and Castiel slept in the same bed when they were 12, and they had continued to do so even as they got older. There was an awkward phase where Dean had constant wet dreams and would end up humping the bed, or Castiel, and that made the Novak boy wanna sleep on the floor for a while. Once Dean learned to control himself, however, and finished his awkward puberty phase, Castiel slept back on the bed with him.  
“Was not,” Dean grumbled, “not my fault I like sleeping with several pillows. I told you to bring your own from your house.” Castiel just rolled his eyes, going to their medicine cabinet and grabbing a Tylenol. He downed it with some apple juice before sitting back down, whining at the annoying aches and pains in his joints.  
Dean slithered up behind him, hands sliding up his back over the thin, soft fabric of his shirt. Castiel closed his eyes and leaned back into the boy, cooing as Dean’s fingers worked at Castiel’s shoulders, kneading into them gently.  
Sam just stared at them, a horrified expression on his face as Castiel made a little groan of content. “Mmn, right there,” Cas murmured, smiling, letting his eyes slip shut, “mmn, Dee...that feels good…” Sam made a gagging noise and put down his glass of juice, murmuring, “ya know, I think I’ve lost my apetite.”  
Mary said nothing, but her cheeks were red and she carefully avoided looking in their direction. Cas groaned again, louder, making Dean’s pajama pants grow a bit tighter. “Does that help?” Dean asked, continued to gently massage his shoulders, his fingers prodding at his tender skin.  
“Okay boys,” Mary interrupted, clearing her throat loudly, “crepes are ready.” Both Winchester boys hurriedly gathered plates up, putting 3 or 4 crepes on their plates, stuffed with strawberries and Nutella and bananas. Castiel took the smallest crepe there was, and just one of them. He cut up two strawberries and delicately placed the pieces along the thin breading, humming softly to himself.  
“Tchaikovsky,” Sam said softly, “that’s what you’re humming, isn’t it?” Castiel nodded in response, cutting the crepe with a fork instead of picking it up like the two bigger boys sitting next to him.  
They all ate in silence for a while, finishing off their breakfasts in piece. Dean grinned at Castiel, resting his head on his shoulder, and murmured, “wanna go play Twister?” Castiel nodded eagerly. A game of Twister with Dean usually meant one of them coming in their pants at least once through out the game, and then trying to hide it from the other. Dean sometimes would purposely put little drops of oil on each Twister spot to ensure it would be extra slick, which annoyed Castiel to the highest extent.  
“Let’s go, then,” Dean muttered, taking his friend’s hand and leading him to the basement. Sam and Mary both sat there, feeling a little awkward.  
“Mom,” Sam asked, “do you think they’ll get married?” Mary looked over at her youngest son, who was now a freshman in high school, three years younger than the two older boys.  
“Probably,” Mary hummed, “maybe they’ll just pussy out and stay best friends. Either way, they’re always gonna be together.”  
Sam just stared at her, frowning. “Ew,” he murmured, “Mom, did you just say the P-word?” Mary just laughed and said, “I know, I know. Sorry, honey.” She kissed his head and ruffled his hair, murmuring, “don’t repeat that,” as a loud grunt came from downstairs, followed by a yelp.


End file.
